Mutiwenhamo is a place where men in Mabvuku and Tafara gather because of problems covering the whole spectrum from poverty to emotional entanglements. It has become a platform where men can cry.

“I went to Donnybrook grounds, sat by myself, contemplating how I would deliver the bad news to my kids,” said Baba Winnie, father of three. “I couldn’t go through with it honestly… instead I turned to a loan‐shark. I ransomed my parents’ house for it, without knowing where I’d get the money to pay back the hustler.”

Another—known here simply as Thomas—spoke of his own descent: job lost, marriage trust broken, and a mind that he says “went to places” even he cannot describe. His words barely rose above a whisper.
“I went through hell, mwanawamai… I cannot tell you the places my mind was taking me even if I wanted to.”

These are rare moments of vulnerability by men who live by the creed that they must be strong, unflinching, providers of certainty. But the silence around their pain so loud.

The Data Behind the Silence

In Zimbabwe, and across the world, the statistics lay bare a stark truth: men suffer deeply—and often silently.

• In Zimbabwe, suicide is estimated to account for about 1.8% of all deaths, with men bearing a higher share than women.
• The latest figures show the national suicide mortality rate at around 17.34 per 100,000 in 2021.
• For the broader African region, men die by suicide at a rate of 18 per 100,000—the highest of any region.
• Globally, men make up roughly 75-80% of suicides in high-income countries.
• Despite lower reported rates of diagnosis for men (for example, globally, men are less often diagnosed with depressive disorders than women) men’s outcomes are worse.

These numbers are not just statistics—they are lenses into the lived experience of men who feel they cannot speak, cannot seek help, cannot crumble.

The sad story in words and numbers

One young man said: “I am jobless and years are moving by, I live with my grandmother. How do you think I sleep at night, thinking many of my age are getting married, building houses… while I struggle to buy myself a pair of jeans to wear? I sometimes smoke just to get off that pain in the night.”

Another father portrayed the unrelenting burden: “For me, it’s the weight of responsibility that's crushing. I’m expected to provide for my family, but the opportunities aren't there. It’s like I’m stuck in a never-ending cycle of disappointment and failure.”

For men in Zimbabwe and beyond, several risk-factors converge: economic hardship, joblessness, relational breakdown, stigma around emotional vulnerability, and inaccessible mental health support.

One man said, “I lost my best friend to suicide… He was struggling, but we didn’t know how to help him. It’s a pain that will stay with me forever.”

A 2024 opinion piece in Newsweek flagged how “‘toxic masculinity’” and the cultural requirement of stoicism are fuelling male suicides in Zimbabwe: from 2015–2019, 2,058 men died by suicide compared with 505 women. 
A 2023 analysis noted that men are far less likely to seek help: “the lack of gender-sensitive mental health services, unwillingness to engage in mental-health care, impulsivity, alcohol and drug use, and use of lethal methods” all play a part.

Healthy living specialist, Oliver Vembo said it is these kinds of testimonies that prompted him to start his organization, Men in Health. It provides a platform for both men and women spaces to talk about their deepest troubles and how to escape the temptations that come with it.

"The world is a dark place, I know many suffer in silence and but no more, we have to share scenarios that attack us and find ways to manoeuvre around them," he said.